Enigmatic Gold
by KillerClary
Summary: Him, Him; The poison still in my veins, slowing killing me. The poison I would still willing drink if he asked me to… honestly he wouldn't even have to ask. Rated M for maybe future lemons.


Of course I knew this would happen one day. I had thought about it every night for the last three years, sometimes even all day. I remember at times the voices would get so bad; all I would want to do was walk across the highway and sit on the rail road tracks until a train came. Of course I was strong then, the voices weren't as loud and I still had something to live for at the time, I was able to convince myself not to.

But now I realize I can't keep it up; always telling myself it'll be different tomorrow, telling myself it's just the stress of high school getting to me and soon enough it'll be over. Getting up every morning and sighing, not wanting to even to put in the effort to turn my alarm off. I guess I just got so tired of myself and nothing was getting better.

And I have to admit some days were better than others. Sometimes it was just the little things like my brother asking for help with his math homework, "because you're the only one in this family that understands it at all." Or my mom buying that book she saw me looking at the store just because she wanted to see me smile, "I miss your smile." But sometimes it made it worse at night.

I would lay in bed thinking maybe I can be strong enough to recover, but then the voices came. "Ha recover? Look at yourself, nobody even wants you to recover, nobody cares. If they did wouldn't they have sent you to the psychologist already? Slitting your wrists in the bathroom isn't helping is it? You know, everyone knows what you do in there. How? Always wearing long sleeves and you really think your brother hasn't noticed all the razors from his pencil sharpeners missing? Oh man and all the kids at school, they know too. Why do you think they never talk to you? And don't forget your dad, you can tell he's ashamed. He won't even look you in the eye anymore. I mean let's be serious…"

The voices were mean, but the worst part about them was I could never tell which ones were mine, which ones were the ones I should believe. And after awhile they got louder and harsher mostly when I was trying to get better. I would go weeks ignoring them and then just as soon as I making friends, finally fitting in, he would say something to me.

Him. _Him._ The poison still in my veins slowing killing me. The poison I would still willing drink if he asked me to… actually he wouldn't even have to ask.

Grade 9, freshman year, we met. I was hesitant at first when he told me he had an extra ticket to the concert and his friend flaked out on him. He told me he thought I was pretty and wouldn't mind getting to know me, he needed more friends anyway. I said yes, as expected, because how could you say no to a free concert ticket _and_ to going with a cute boy.

I knew after that night if we continued what we were doing I… well his soft golden hair and devious smirk said it all, I was going to fall for him no matter if I wanted to or not. And I did.

After the concert he had asked me if he could see me again, and being that little girl I was I giggled and said okay. Then he kissed me, my first kiss, and it was perfect. It was gentle and soft and minty, and I wanted more, but too soon he pulled away. He whispered into my neck, his breath making me shiver, "Want me to take you home?" No, can't we just stay here and kiss some more? Of course I didn't say that. I couldn't say anything, I was still feeling the bliss of the kiss and I never wanted to stop feeling it. He took my hand and pulled me gently behind him to his car.

I still can't forget his gentleness, his carefulness, like I was some sort of glass doll he didn't want to break. I've always wondered why he was so gentle at first, always wondered what changed him, wondered if maybe I did that.

Sometimes the voices would sound like him, but it's only when I get really bad. But with his voice come the memories and the dreams also.

Before him I wasn't so bad. Or maybe I was just too young to realize it wasn't normal to hear things, but I don't really remember, and honestly it doesn't matter because it will all be over soon enough.


End file.
